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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967940">Merciless Haze</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewellsheart/pseuds/sewellsheart'>sewellsheart</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>About to Die, Angst, Blood, F/M, Fatal Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Vampire Turning, Vomit, explicit cause maybe smut later idk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:15:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewellsheart/pseuds/sewellsheart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the back of her mind she thought she heard someone screaming, torturous and raw and distraught.  It sounded animalistic, nothing short of an encapsulation of all of the pain a person could possibly feel, every nerve alive and striving to make its own body suffer.  Sophie just barely registered that it was her own screams.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Female Detective/Nathaniel "Nate" Sewell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So… turning, eh?  This is my perception of how I think the process will go and uh... it’s not pleasant.  Each part of this story will explore a stage in the process and the warnings will be adjusted as needed, so consider this Stage 1.  Hope you enjoy :)</p>
<p>Warnings for: Mentions of blood, death, wanting to die, detailed pain, vomit, and fatal injury.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     She didn’t know how many times she’d been hit, how many bullets had ripped through her flesh.  The only thing she knew was that she was falling, and it felt like ages before she finally hit the ground.  Her shoulder slammed against the earth with a sickening thud, her heart pounded in her ears, a warm wetness pooled below her, and she was suddenly reminded of how horribly human she was.</p>
<p>    <em>Human</em>.  Sophie had come to hate the word. It had become nothing more than a reminder of how fragile she was.  How disposable she was, in the grand scheme of things.</p>
<p>    “Sophie!”, she heard Farah scream from a distance, followed by a short “<em>Fuck.</em>” from Morgan.</p>
<p>    The mission could not have gone worse, Adam and Nate were on standby at a facility over 30 kilometers away, not impossibly far for them to run in if backup were needed, but would arrive far too late to help Sophie in her current condition.</p>
<p>    Adam had been less than keen to send the three of them alone, and Nate had looked like he was damn near ready to flip the table during the argument with the Combat Director. She had rarely seen him genuinely angry, the heat of the words he could say likely burning the tip of his tongue. He had instead chosen to keep his mouth shut, letting those fiery words sit silently in his eyes. She wished he had spoken.  She wondered if he did too.</p>
<p>    The Agency had insisted that it was only a few trappers that needed to be dealt with, maybe five in total, and they needed Adam and Nate’s advisement on another mission.</p>
<p>    They had been wrong. Upon approaching the base, the trio had realized how terribly outnumbered they were.  Worse yet, their comms had gone out due to an unexpected satellite disconnect, according to the robotic voice in their earpieces, leaving them with no way to call for backup, to call for Adam or Nate.</p>
<p>    <em>Nate</em>.  Sophie felt her stomach sink.  Her fears were being realized, that she may never see him again, that he wasn’t by her side right now.  That she was likely going to die here.</p>
<p>    She felt soft hands hold the back of her head up to place in a lap.  She looked up, army green eyes meeting a panicked amber, <em>Farah</em>.  She tried to ground herself by speaking her name, knowing it came out as more of a hum, as she felt her reality begin to slip.  The young vampire she had grown so close to, someone who had taught Sophie that perhaps being more sociable wasn’t the worst thing to be, and, for whatever reason, thought that she was a fun person to be around.  Her dear friend, who was now on the verge of crying out of fear, wet eyes creating a deep contrast to the bubbly spirit Sophie adored.  </p>
<p>    She felt another pair of hands grab onto the neckline of her t-shirt to rip it open.</p>
<p>    “Holy shit.”  Morgan, again.  Sophie tried to meet her eyes, but her vision was deteriorated, leaving her unable to make out anything more than two identical blurred shapes of the woman at her side.</p>
<p>    “How many?” Farah’s typically cheerful, boisterous voice came out as more of a whimper.</p>
<p>    “At <em>least</em> six.”  From the tone of her voice, Sophie couldn’t tell if Morgan was angry or scared.</p>
<p>    Six.  An entire round, that fucker had hit every single shot.  He had been one of the last too. They could have been walking back to the facility ready to raise hell when they got back.  Ready to cuss out every person who approved this mission plan despite Adam and Nate’s protests, choosing to brush off their expertise.  She could have ripped the Agency’s priorities to shreds, she could have forced them to acknowledge their own stupidity, but she would not be able to.</p>
<p>    Even in her muddled state Sophie knew she was a goner.  She would bleed out before backup arrived, especially if the searing pain in her left thigh was an indication of a possible artery hit.  She had minutes, maybe even seconds.  </p>
<p>    She heard the tearing of fabric once again, in between distant words that she was probably meant to respond to, before feeling a tight pressure wrapped around her stomach and thigh.  They were trying to stop the bleeding.  Sophie knew they would fail, the cloth was probably already soaked through.</p>
<p>    Even in her dying moments, she remained ever the pessimist.</p>
<p>    “What do we do?” Panic had now overtaken Farah’s voice.  There were a few beats of silence, then a breathy “<em>Oh</em>.”, trailed by another pause.  Sophie felt Farah’s hands place themselves softly on her cheeks, and another, third hand firmly grip her arm.  “You’re gonna be okay, yeah?  You know you can trust us?” She almost sounded pleading.  The most Sophie could muster was a single, weak nod.  </p>
<p>    She wasn’t sure what she was trusting them with.</p>
<p>    “Keep your eyes open.”  Morgan’s voice was stern and deadly serious, she was giving her an order.  Sophie wasn’t sure if she would be able to follow through.  She felt like she was being pulled down through an endless blackhole, and that inky darkness was beginning to surround her.  Sophie squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, willing them to refocus, to ground her in her body again.  Her vision could not stay straight, she felt her eyes wanting to roll into the back of her head, and it took all of her strength just to look at the sky.  The soft blue was beginning to blush orange, indicative of the setting sun, of the purple-tinted dark that would inevitably set in.  </p>
<p>    An autumn breeze brushed through the air, and she was suddenly aware of just how cold she was.</p>
<p>    It was then that she felt four, stinging points enter her body.  Farah’s hands had moved to her shoulders, gripping her tightly and almost apologetically, her coiled hair brushing against Sophie’s paler-growing face, her fangs settled in her left collarbone.</p>
<p>    Morgan was at her thigh, one hand holding down her knee, the other gently grasping her right hand.  Sophie couldn’t think of a time where Morgan had ever been gentle with her, her body always in a stance meant to stir intimidation and her tongue sharply candor. Sophie knew that despite the moody persona she carried, Morgan cared for her, they had an unspoken declaration of friendship and their own ways of showing a genuine concern for one another.  But this was a physical form of <em>comforting</em> her, and Sophie wasn’t sure if there was anything more terrifying than the prospect that she was so deep in the shit that Morgan felt the need to let her know that she was <em>there</em> and she was trying to help.</p>
<p>    Help came in the form of her own two fangs settled in the center of her right thigh.</p>
<p>    It was indescribable, the pain that followed, part of it made her feel like she was on fire, like every inch of her body was being licked by the very flames of hell, trying to pull her even deeper into a void threatening to consume her.  Yet there was another part of it, something far more pleasant and almost ethereal in how light it made her feel, and in the back of her mind Sophie wondered if this was it, if this is what dying felt like, that the flames that were nearly swallowing her whole were keeping her from reaching a final place of comfort where she would not hurt anymore, where there would not be anymore pain.  She longed for that feeling so deeply, but as the fire continued to burn it took all sense of comfort with it, and that heavenly sensation she wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull close to her was burning away with it.</p>
<p>    In the back of her mind she thought she heard someone screaming, torturous and raw and distraught.  It sounded animalistic, nothing short of an encapsulation of all of the pain a person could possibly feel, every nerve alive and striving to make its own body suffer.  Sophie just barely registered that it was her own screams, her own mouth pleading for it to stop, to <em>God, please, make it stop</em>.  She would do anything.</p>
<p>    <em>Just let me die</em>, she wanted to cry out, to grab Morgan by her hair and rip her fangs out of her thigh, to slam her hands against Farah’s head to get her to let go, to make the wildfire release her and let her slip away.  In that moment she wanted nothing more than for death to embrace her, than to let that void cover her.</p>
<p>    Then she thought of those soft deep brown eyes that always pulled her from the brink, even in the worst of situations.</p>
<p>    Nate was a gift she never deserved, a man far more genuine and kind than any person Sophie had ever met before.  Someone who had been through so much pain, perhaps the exact same pain she was experiencing now, and still held his head high and greeted everyone with a smile.</p>
<p>    She couldn’t let go, she didn’t want to go anywhere without him, never again.  She wanted to feel his warm hands on her waist, to feel those same hands run through her long ginger hair while he kissed her softly in his candle lit bedroom.  She craved to hear him whisper sweet nothings in her ear in languages she hardly knew or had never heard at all.</p>
<p>    He had always been so gentle with her, knowing that, despite her naturally intimidating appearance as a 6’1”, muscled Irishwoman, all tattoos and harsh lines, she craved the delicate intimacy he offered.  As selfish as it was, she wanted to <em>feel</em> wanted and Nate never displayed or provided her with anything less.  She had never loved a person so deeply before.  She had never been held like he held her, never had love made to her in the way he did, never felt so desperately loved in return.  There was no one like her Nathaniel.  <em>Her Nathaniel.</em></p>
<p>    The pain was still racing through her, she couldn’t tell if it had been minutes or hours.  What she could tell was that Morgan was now looking directly at her, hand still gripping hers, and somehow Sophie found herself able to focus through the fire and catch those grey eyes.  She looked terrified and nigh feral, blood dripping from her teeth to her chin and down her neck.  Sophie broke her gaze, looking up to see Farah, who appeared to be in a similar state, a sight that could have shattered her reality had she seen it out of the context of their current circumstance.  She hadn’t felt them let go of her, and she still couldn’t feel anything but that same hellish pain that continued to overtake her as she began to convulse.  </p>
<p>    Somehow it had worsened, she felt like every bone in her body was breaking only to immediately repair itself and break again.  She felt Farah push her onto her side as she began to vomit, the acid stinging her throat and bittering her mouth.  It was too much, everything was too much, every little sound, touch, and taste was overwhelming in its proximity to her.  Her world was spinning, her vision edging black once again, and this time she knew she would not be able to fight it.  </p>
<p>    Despite the pleas of her teammates, distilled to just echoes of voices that sounded distant and foreign as they bounced around her head, she let her eyes roll back, and as the dark brought her into a close embrace, she swore she could hear footsteps thundering through the forest that surrounded them.</p>
<p>    She swore she could hear Nate calling her name.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>She was ripped from her unconsciousness with such ferocity that she thought she must have been comatose as every one of her senses rushed towards her with agonizing vividity.  Her typically sensible mind was left flailing, finding itself too incapacitated to focus on any single thing.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warnings for:  Mentions of blood, death, vomit, detailed pain, and mental instability.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>     “What if I was definitely going to die? As in, no ifs, ands, or buts, I was going to die?” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     It had been a late night in mid-December when the topic had first been brought up.  Sophie’s drunken mind had never had much of a filter, and after the near year she had spent knowing Unit Bravo, she felt more open to asking the hard questions she knew they did not want to answer.  Well, all except Farah. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “I’d do it for you, I think we all would.” She had chirped, her voice almost too cheery for the conversation at hand, but gave a lightness Sophie appreciated. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     Judging by the faces of the rest of the group, Sophie was not so sure the others necessarily agreed with the answer Farah provided for them.  Her eyes wandered over to meet Nate’s.  The gentle smile that had graced his face for a majority of the evening was now gone, replaced by a light frown and a furrowed brow, his fingers gripping the body of his wine glass so tightly she was worried he would shatter it.  She could see the questions floating in the back of his irises.  Adam spoke before him.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “It would be a rash decision to make in a moment's notice.” He stated plainly before lifting his own glass to his lips, but even she could see the touch of caution he held in his stance. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “Then we can avoid that by making a decision now, no?” She pushed. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “I would hardly say you are in any state to be making choices as detrimental as those.”  His statement had been meant to put an end to the conversation, to allow someone else to jump in and change the topic.  Sophie persisted once again. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “For all you know I could die tonight and you would be regretting the fact that you allowed this conversation to be brushed off.”   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “Surely you have more faith in our abilities to protect you than that, Detective.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “You’ve failed before.”  The words had flown out of her mouth before her mind could catch up and process them.  Rarely was she so forward, and never would she intend to hurt those she cared for most, but it appeared she had done just that. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     The room had fallen almost completely silent, the only sound being the crackling fire that Morgan stood by, her face unreadable but her body tense. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “We have.”  Nate broke the silence, his voice hesitant, just above a whisper.  “That is something I’ll hold guilt for for the rest of my existence.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     A sentiment she had been aware of, but one she had never wanted him to hold.  Yet, there she sat in a drunken stupor, reinforcing his regrets and ripping every consoling word she had given him to shreds.  He had never liked it when she tried to comfort him about what had happened on that dreary early-spring night, but she meant every word she told him.  She felt like she had just taken it all back. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “You know I don’t blame you for that.  Not for a second would I ever believe that that was your own fault.”  Her words were sincere, but not enough. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “So do you blame us or not?”  Morgan had cut in.  Her voice was sharp, a tone that had become almost unfamiliar to Sophie in the past months since their trust for one another began to develop. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “No, I’m sorry I just-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “Sophie.”  Nate’s voice was firm but held no aggression, only meant to gain her attention.  His expression softened once more.  “Let’s go to bed.  We can talk about this another time.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     She had nodded, knowing that he would likely never bring it up again if he could avoid it.  Nevertheless, she stood, taking his hand before making her way out of the room, but not before Farah offered her a reassuring smile.  Sophie could not bring herself to return it as she felt Morgan and Adam’s eyes follow her out. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     Her sober mind would have brought the topic up gently, not try to turn it into some kind of morbid joke.  She wished she had never brought it up, especially in her drunken state, but the thought had been taunting her endlessly, and so she had allowed the whiskey to speak for her. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>    Her and Nate walked to her room in silence, his hand had moved to her waist, both to balance her and to keep her close.  This time, she broke the quiet just as they approached her door. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “Nate, please don’t think I meant it that way.  I was only-” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     He silenced her briefly with a soft kiss, a gentle reassurance, both of his hands holding her face.  He rested his forehead against hers.  “I know what you meant, darling.  I know your heart.”  Another kiss, another interruption, another attempt at changing the subject.  “You need rest.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “No, Nate, I’m not sleeping until you let me say what I need to say.”  She knew her words were slightly slurred, that her accent was thicker than usual, but her tone told a different story in regards to her coherence. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     A pained smile of acknowledgement crossed over his handsome features,  “Of course.”  He turned to open the door to her room and entered, Sophie following close behind, attempting to gather her thoughts.  Nate closed the door behind her, his movements as tense as his tone had been, before he turned to face her. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     Sophie was suddenly struck by his expression.  He almost looked tired, obviously dreading the conversation she was forcing them to continue.  A soft pang of guilt settled in her chest.  She knew he had been avoiding the subject, perhaps thinking that if he brought it up himself he would put thoughts in her head, and he had always valued her independence.  Almost as much as he valued her humanity, her mortality. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “I’ve been thinking a lot.” She started.  From there she did not know how to continue, how to tie every thought that had kept her awake at night, had her dreading even the thought of leaving the house alone.  “I just - I’m so happy Nate.  I have never been this happy in my entire life and I’ve never been so fucking afraid because of it.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     As a look of confusion claimed his face, he took a step closer to her.  “You’re afraid of being happy?”  His eyes were soft as they gazed over her face. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “No, God, no.”  She rushed to correct him.  “I’m afraid it’s going to end.  I’m afraid that one day I’m going to walk outside and someone will decide it’s the perfect moment to slit my throat, or shoot me in the head, or beat me bloody and then it will all be over.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     He reached out to hold her hand once again, disturbed by her words yet seemingly familiar with the thoughts.  She wondered if the same thoughts had kept him awake during the occasional times he chose to rest.  He let her continue. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “Nate, I’ve never cared more about my life than I do now.  I want nothing more than to spend the rest of eternity with you, and Farah, and Adam, and Morgan, and…” She trailed off, her voice beginning to crack as her emotions built up.  “ …and I’m scared that I won’t ever get to do that.”  She felt the sting of tears in her eyes, and she let them fall.   </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     She had cried in front of Nate before, but not like this, not out of a rare genuine sense of fear.  She had cried about her lonely childhood, her near non-existent relationship with her mother, and the death of her father.  She had cried about things far more inconsequential, like too much stress at work, her dishwasher breaking while she was PMS-ing, and her car breaking down for the third time in a month.  Never had she felt so uneased, so disturbed by what should be the happiest time of her life. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     He pulled her close to him, embracing her by her waist as her own arms entangled themselves around his neck, and leaned the side of his head against her’s. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     She felt him open his mouth to speak, but this time she was the one who stopped him.  “I’ve never been afraid of death before.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     Nate pulled his head back to press their foreheads together once more, his brows knitted in thought and his eyes shut tightly.  He opened them after a few long moments, revealing his own earthy brown eyes to be as wet as hers.  Sophie suddenly felt achingly sober, the dullness that came with her intoxication stripped away as everything became far too present.  Nate’s hand brushing against her cheek pulled her out of her thoughts. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “Why must it be that the thing I wish you would cherish is the very thing that strikes the most fear in us both?”  He gave a shallow sigh.  “How long has this been bothering you?” </em>
</p>
<p>     Too long<em> , she thought, but simply settled for “Awhile.” </em></p>
<p>
  <em>     He gave a hum in response, processing his own thoughts, carefully choosing his words.  “I don’t want to… get into too much detail, but the process and the pain it brings is beyond description.”  He paused, pulling back just enough to be able to look her in the eyes.  “I don’t want to see you go through that.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     “But it ends, doesn’t it?  The pain?”  Her words were soft. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>     Nate studied her gaze, holding nothing but adoration in his own.  “Yes, it does.” </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>     She was ripped from her unconsciousness with such ferocity that she thought she must have been comatose as every one of her senses rushed towards her with agonizing vividity.  Her typically sensible mind was left flailing, finding itself too incapacitated to focus on any single thing.  She did not know where she was.  She did not know who she was with.  She did not know if she was even alive.</p>
<p>     Bile rose with the panic in her throat, she could feel herself thrashing, attempting to grasp onto whatever she could find.  Sophie felt a firm hand place itself in between her shoulder blades and push her upwards, holding her in place as she heaved into a pot placed in her lap.  She was not sure who had put it in front of her.  When she finally raised her head in an attempt to ground herself, regret swallowed her whole.  The room was spinning, her body so off kilter it may have been warping the shape of her soul.  </p>
<p>     The hand on her back moved to the front of her shoulder to guide her back down onto what she now realized was a bed, <em> her </em>bed.  She stared up at the ceiling and caught a glimpse of blond hair, then a distinct smell of cigarette smoke before her eyelids forced themselves shut.</p>
<p>     If the fire she had felt in the forest was the beginning of her being lit aflame, the pain she felt now was what it must feel like to be completely engulfed.  Her body felt cold despite the pressure of what must have been a dozen blankets on top of her.  Cold and hot at the same time.  It took her mind a moment to find the word.  <em> Fever </em>.  </p>
<p>     Sophie had never felt less like herself than she did in that moment, degraded to a sick woman in bed pleading for the endless pain to finally grant her mercy.  She knew she was crying, wailing even, reciting Irish prayers that had not passed her lips for nearly a decade.  She was the weakest she had ever been in front of the strongest people she knew, people that her mind was finally able to identify.  </p>
<p>     Adam and Morgan were by her side, the two people who were easily the least capable of comforting a writhing woman, but most capable of bearing the sight of what was undoubtedly a disturbing scene.</p>
<p>     That was the most reasonable explanation as to why Nate wasn’t by her side, they probably would not have let him in if he tried.  They wouldn’t let him see her in the state she was in, covered in sweat and blood, smelling of vomit, begging for relief in the few words her tongue could form, completely unrecognizable from the typically strong and silent woman she was.  </p>
<p>     She knew that he likely fought with them in a way that was as gentle as it was demanding, asking to at least be with her in her moments of silence when unconsciousness overtook her once again, and she knew that the other two would have sternly, if not vehemently denied his request.  She longed for him to be with her, keeping her close as she worked her way through the storm.</p>
<p>     She heard the hushed words of her friends, but could not understand them.  Still, she found comfort in the familiarity of their voices, Morgan’s low and languid, Adam’s deep and taut.  She wished that comfort was enough to distract her from the electric pain running up and down her spine, weaving itself between her excruciatingly tense shoulder blades and down to her tailbone.  Sophie felt as if she had no control over her own movements, her muscles twitching endlessly, accompanied by an agonizing ache in her mouth.  She was not sure how much more of this she could take, how much longer she would last before her thoughts returned to the darkness she had felt in the forest.</p>
<p>     She was beginning to fear that death may be the only way to make it all stop.</p>
<p>     She did not want to die.</p>
<p>     All she wanted was Nate, and as she felt herself begin to slip back into the relief of an unconscious mind, she imagined him wrapping his arms around her waist,  enveloping her in the safety of his strong arms.  Wherever he was, Sophie took solace in the fact that he could not be far.  He would be there to comfort her, to hold her, when this suffering finally ended, when she was finally granted clemency, when this burning crescendo came to a halt.  </p>
<p>     For now, she would let the darkness caress her once more.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Follow me on tumblr @sewellsheart and scream about Vampires with me like it's 2010 all over again</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Follow me on tumblr @sewellsheart let's cry together</p></blockquote></div></div>
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